


Day 26 - Breakfast

by marvel_and_mischief



Series: December Writing Challenge [26]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV), Pedro Pascal - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Nipple Play, Sexiness with food, insinuations of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:01:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28336611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvel_and_mischief/pseuds/marvel_and_mischief
Summary: Oberyn brings you breakfast in bed, but it's not as straightforward as that.
Relationships: Oberyn Martell & Reader, Oberyn Martell/You
Series: December Writing Challenge [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035513
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21





	Day 26 - Breakfast

It had been one of those rare nights where it had just been you and Oberyn. That’s not to say you didn’t enjoy the company of others in your bed, particularly Ellaria most nights, but sometimes it was nice to have the Prince all to yourself. 

Oberyn had began the evening with a bath of smelling salts and rose petals for the two of you, relaxing in the setting of the Dornish sun whilst sipping on fine wine. What he started in the bath with his fingers he continued with his mouth before taking you completely in his bed until the early hours of the morning. 

Now you blearily blinked your eyes open, seeing the sun shining through the balcony, a light breeze ruffling the thin curtains. Quiet chatter from early risers outside travelled into the room, their conversations mumbling into one sound, but the tone chipper and happy.

You stretched out your limbs, a pleasantly aching reminder of last nights activities and sore in all the right places. The action pushed the blanket that was covering you down underneath your stomach and you spotted the marks Oberyn had left on you, like an enticing path moving from each breast and along your belly, beneath the blanket and, you assumed, between your legs. 

Just as you were admiring his work, Oberyn pushed open the door to the room with his foot, carrying a tray in his hands, his gold robe floating around him.

“I hoped you would be awake,” he smiled charmingly, placing the tray on the table beside the bed and climbing onto the bed to sit up against the headboard. You moved to do the same but he placed his hand on your chest to lower you back down to the bed. “No need to move, my love,” he insisted.

You settled back into the plump cushions, looking up at your lover with a sleepy smile on your face. He was watching you, like a bird of prey would a tiny mouse, but you found it not unkind, rather you could tell he was remembering everything he had done to you the night before and seeing you blissed out and relaxed in his bed made him eager to do it all again. 

“Breakfast, the most important meal of the day. If you start out right then the day can only get better,” Oberyn’s voice was silky and seductive, even when he wasn’t trying to be. He took a handful of berries from the tray, took two and hovered them over your mouth until you opened up for him. Placing the berries on your tongue, you caught your lips around his fingers as he was pulling away, swiping the tips and earning you a deep groan.

“Do not start what you cannot finish,” Oberyn warned, balancing a few berries in the dip between your breasts, “I have meetings this morning I cannot be late to.”

You smirked, watching as Oberyn leaned down and sucked up the berries one by one, leaving a trail of wet kisses in his wake. 

“I fail to see how that is my problem,” you retorted, humour in your voice that sparked joy in Oberyn’s chest. He enjoyed a lover he could quip with, that contrasted with the seriousness of his status and other areas of his life. He liked to laugh and play in his bed chambers, and you did that perfectly. 

He looked up from your chest, eyebrow raised, chuckling from deep within. His response was to nip at your soft skin, eyes trained on yours, daring you to look away, shuck him off, show how much he was effecting you. You could already feel the slick between your legs, the sparks of arousal in your belly, the urge to grab a handful of Oberyn’s hair and guide him further down your body. 

But you resisted, playing into his game of cat and mouse, not quite sure which one you were. Oberyn sat up, the tray taking his attention away from you as he pondered what to feed you next. He took a piece of wet fruit, cold and oozing sweet liquid and held it between his fingers, watching you eye it with curiosity.

“Open,” he commanded, and you did so with pleasure. Oberyn held the fruit on your tongue, moving it around to fully coat it in the liquid, then held the fruit away. You tasted the watery tanginess, then Oberyn was placing the fruit on your collarbone. “Don’t move.”

You stayed as still as you could, trying to calm your racing heart, fisting the blankets around you to ground you and prevent yourself from writhing on the bed. Oberyn moved the piece of fruit along your collarbone, down the front of your chest and over the swell of your right breast, pausing at the nipple until it hardened underneath the fruit before retracing his path back up to your collarbone. He did this a few more times, until he was satisfied that there was enough of a trail. 

Oberyn leaned up, fruit at your lips, and you opened them without command for him to pop the piece in your mouth. As you chewed on the sweet treat you felt Oberyn’s tongue following the line of liquid across your body, sucking along the way, leaving more marks for you to remember him for days to come. 

“Are you enjoying the fruit, my love?” He asked conversationally, as though he wasn’t sucking on your breast. You felt goosebumps popping up on your skin and your legs naturally spread at his ministrations. 

“It tastes sweet, thank you,” you replied, breathless and a little impatient.

“Would you like more to eat?” Oberyn asked, lifting his head to meet yours, his nose nuzzling the apple of your cheek.

“Not food,” you mumbled, distracted by his fingers patting lightly on the skin of your belly, so close to where you want him and you knew he knew that.

“Not food?” He was teasing you now, frustrating you into lifting your hips to encourage his hand lower.

“You,” you whispered, taking the initiative to turn your head just enough to capture his lips. Breakfast with Oberyn was never straight forward, but you’d never complain.


End file.
